


Reflection

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, getting off on your own image, self gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam masturbates to his own reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> For the picture prompt at [wings128's wet wedneday.](http://wings128.livejournal.com/558558.html)

When Sam wakes up, he’s forgotten that there are mirrors on the ceiling. He’s startled to see himself staring back down at- himself.

He’s shirtless and barefoot, he can’t remember taking them off last night, but apparently he did. Dean’s not in bed and he’s not in the tiny-crappy-no-tell motel, either. He’s alone, with himself. 

Normally he’d roll on his side, not look at the reflection above him, be embarrassed at how he looks but he catches a glimpse of himself just from the chest down and for one second he doesn’t recognize it. 

The toned abdomen- that just two years ago he didn’t have, the low slung jeans that are pulled even farther down by being so stretched out, and the large hand resting just above the waistband of the open button on his jeans. He swallows hard and can’t believe that he might be, _he is_ , turned on by his own body. 

He can feel his cock twitching and the already semi-hard morning wood actually coming to life. He swivels his hips, the zipper drops down a few teeth from the pressure of the straining bulge underneath. His eyes are following the serpentine movement and his cock peeks up from under the now half-open zipper. 

He really wishes Dean were here, but he’s not.

His pulse is quickening and his hand has already started to move down to the flushed pink head showing itself. The course pubic hairs bristle over his palm as it slides past his navel pushing his splayed fingers under the open denim. 

He refuses to move his eyes past what his hand is doing. He keeps focused on what is happening and now, how it feels. His fingers dance over the head as they move downward over the shaft and hit the base resting just above his balls. His breath is ragged and hitches in his throat. He closes his eyes letting the sensations wash over his body.

The harsh tingle building in his belly urges him to move his hand. He wraps his fingers around the shaft and pulls upward. His palm cresting over the head and smearing the newly formed pearl of precome, making him shudder. 

“ _Oh fuck,_ ” he murmurs through unsteady breathing.

The blankets are bunching up at the bottom of the bed as he digs his heels into the edge of the too-short bed, his heels grappling for purchase at the braided ridge of the mattress. He’s squirming, his hand is stroking over his hard-on, his thumb caressing the slit smearing precome over the head causing it to glisten in the reflection. Sam licks his lips, arches his hips, curls his toes and gives several hard yanks over his pulsing cock. 

The hot flutter swirling in his belly expands to his balls. He bites his lower lip so hard it might bleed but he doesn’t care, the pain might prolong the impending orgasm, drag it out until maybe Dean gets back and can join him.

Sharp sounds of air being gulped into Sam’s lungs fill the room and he knows that he can’t hold back anymore. His grip tightens around the shaft, his forefinger and thumb bump into the frenulum before retreating back down and he quickens the pace. The jeans are making the pressure even better as they trap his hand and he struggles to work over himself. His heart is pounding, his mouth is dry and his balls are throbbing with the urgent need to come. 

All it takes are a few more pulls when Sam’s wrist snaps up, squeezes the head making him come. He shoots out thick pearly strands over his belly, his hand catching some and laving them back down over his cock. He’s bucking and grunting, hips flying madly off of the bed and a single word escapes his lips.

“ _Dean._ ” It’s quiet and weak. His eyes closed tight as he says it and a few more small spurts of ejaculation meekly ooze out onto his drawn sunken belly.

He opens his eyes and looks at his wrecked image. His fingers entangled in the long locks of his hair. His chest heaving with the urgent needed for oxygen. The pattern of translucent cooling come sprayed over his tanned stomach. His hand still buried inside of his jeans, the damp spot above the outline of his knuckles very apparent and for the first time, he sees what Dean sees after they have sex. He still doesn’t understand why he calls it beautiful but then again, he loves the ruined mess that is his brother once they’ve finished, so he can appreciate the sentiment.

 

The end


End file.
